


Hitori Is Not a Strawberry

by Nhitori



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nhitori/pseuds/Nhitori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd gotten his revenge.<br/>Who was he to deny that same fulfillment to somebody else?</p><p>Hitori succeeds, then gives up posthaste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the lunar eclipse.

For somebody out in the stars to have so much sway over the living who were only asleep, it had to be a particular cosmic event. Hitori knew this to be true for one simple fact; that he hadn’t been trapped there anytime in the past. He hadn’t seen any of it. He hadn’t wanted to see it. Something in him knew just who The King was, and he didn’t want to look into that face he saw every morning in the mirror and be reminded that it was stolen from somebody much more deserving of it than himself.

He’d been blind the entire time he was trapped on Holiday star. Too blind to see the picture book calling him a liar. Too blind to see anything about the room he’d been kept in. All he could do was listen as The King told him that people who might hurt somebody have to stay inside, and feel the words crawl through a sleepy haze as the power of the trap tried to kill him.

When it was The King who told him he could sleep for as long as he wanted, he didn’t want to protest it. He didn’t want to fight back at all. He understood, of course, what was happening. The King had been trying to collect the others, for his strange hivemind, but not Hitori. Hitori wasn’t going to be made one with The King, because Hitori had betrayed him. They had not died together, and thus they would not be melded together in this twisted afterlife. The King just wanted Hitori dead. Dead and locked away in that dark room, never to hurt anyone again-

But he woke up.

On the outside, Leone J.B. and Tohri Nishikikouji had been working tirelessly to get the fading observers of the full moon to snap out of the comas they’d been sent into by the efforts of The King with his increased powers on this particular night. It was bound to happen, of course, that a cosmic event as large as this eclipse would cause strange occurrences somewhere in the world. It was only their luck that it happened to this particular group; that an astronomy club activity would devolve so completely due to its advisor having unfinished business with a dead person.

Nobody denied that it was almost suspicious, how similar The King had looked to a teacher at the school, but then, once waking up from the coma most of them brushed it off as a dream; it wasn’t uncommon then, that they might encounter the same person in two different roles, wasn’t it? They hadn’t even needed to finish cracking the dark shell they’d been trapped in before the drugs managed to pull them from the sinister slumber. It was a gamble, that it would even work. A very small chance. In another universe, it might not have. In another universe, somebody may have seen the picture book calling Mr. Nanaki a liar, accompanied by such angry scribbles.

In another universe, The King may have also been defeated; but he was not. As much as the others decided it must have been some sort of awful dream in a fit of eclipse-borne lunacy, Hitori was aware that he was still out there somewhere. He should have known such a perfect opportunity couldn’t have fallen in his lap without consequence. For somebody so easy to befriend, so easy to lie to, so trusting and easy to trick, and in such a state of friendlessness that nobody would even know if his personality suddenly changed. The same height as Hitori, similar build, and a very close eye color. Everything pointed to him being just who Hitori needed in order to get the revenge that he craved.

That wasn’t to say that Kazuaki Nanaki had only ever been a tool to Hitori.  
That was only… the beginning and the end.

There was enough reality there that Hitori would have gladly let The King kill him, but for when he woke up. When he woke up and Nageki hissed to him, what was he waiting for anyway? It shouldn’t be so difficult to get an opportunity alone, with Shuu Iwamine, and not get caught… it wouldn’t be the first time he killed somebody…

That was why Hitori stayed alive, wasn’t it? The only reason was this driving force, pressing against his shoulders and forcing him forward. He’d started to hate Nageki now, and that fact disgusted him. The Nageki who talked to him in that dream… was much different from this Nageki. Hitori had to wonder if perhaps, a desire to fulfill that wish of revenge, had twisted Nageki’s image in his head; but nonetheless, he couldn’t very well deny that wish now. If he stopped, it would be for nothing. It would all be for nothing. He would disappoint Nageki.

He would fall apart without a goal in mind, and maybe that was why he’d waited so long. He knew that as soon as he found his success, he wouldn’t have a reason anymore. Oh, but he wasn’t so terrified of that prospect anymore. Not after meeting The King. Not after coming face to face with the sins of his past, quite literally.

Hitori Uzune had to reach his success now. He had to cross that final horizon standing in his life, and topple right over the edge. With the visage of Kazuaki Nanaki, he was only really living on borrowed time. No, that’s not quite right. He was living on stolen time. Ah, but the astronomy event was the last time he’d be at the school until he started on his prep for next school year, and it was a wager whether Isa Souma would even be there then…

Oh, that would just give him time to psyche himself up for the second murder he’d ever commit. As much as he had been stalling on this attack, he really felt much less torn up about actually doing it. There was something different, something less horrible to killing somebody with his own hands than tricking them into taking their own life. Isa Souma seemed far less human to him anyhow. It was just like killing a fly, except immensely more frowned upon in general society.

It wasn’t until the third day of prep that Hitori was able to get him alone, and of course it was in the infirmary. He was smiling, just as usual, but there was real joy behind it for the first time in years. A twisted and awful joy, but he figured that if he was going to find happiness in the murder of his worst enemy, he may as well revel in it as much as he could before the peeling bits of scotch tape that held his heart together finally dropped off.`

“Ah… Doctor Iwamine? Can I talk to you for a moment?” Hitori asked as he stepped into the room, holding a palm to his cheek almost dreamily.

“Well, in asking me that, you’ve already talked to me for a moment, but I suppose so. What is it this time, Mr. Nanaki?” Shuu asked, turning his desk chair and speaking in a dull tone, as he often did when dealing with the most soporific person he’d ever met.

Hitori pulled the door closed behind him until he heard it latch, then turned the lock on it. Locking it from inside wasn’t going to do much except prevent interruptions, but closing the door would certainly help him avoid conviction. He was entirely aware of the peculiar qualities of the infirmary’s walls, and the… soundproofing, that the doctor had seemed to deem necessary. He put his hand into his jacket, grabbing the pistol he’d brought with him, “Oh, well, for one thing, it’s not actually Mr. Nanaki! As a matter of fact, I think you should go ahead and call me, Hitori Uzune!” He said this with an incredibly friendly tone, as per his harmless persona, as a bullet embedded itself in the doctor’s left shoulder. Two more were in his knees before he could react.

“You…” Isa Souma hissed, grimacing as he stared daggers through Hitori. Look who brought knives to a gun fight.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Hitori asked, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side, clasping his hands in front of his chest almost innocently, except that he still held a smoking gun.

“That relative… of course we wouldn’t have known any differently, when we found that body…” He groaned, leaning over, “All you needed to do was find some other corpse to put in place, then take on a new identity, but…”

“I found you with your new identity just fine. Oh, you see, your mistake was coming up with entirely new names. I was smart enough to take somebody else’s, Isa Souma…” And as he said this, there was one final order barked in his ear.

Just do it already.

So he did. He walked right up to his worst enemy, and pressed the gun against his temple. Nageki’s shadow seemed to wrap around his hand, and the thought of how many people could have been hurt, by Isa Souma or by Shuu Iwamine… really, there was nothing wrong at all with bringing an end to somebody like this.

It was karma, that spattered his brains on the desk behind him.

Cleaning up the crime scene… didn’t seem to have a point. It wasn’t like Hitori would be around to receive any possible punishment he could receive for this, after all. For the first time in a long time, his head was completely clear. He’d fulfilled that wish. Nageki had no reason to stick around anymore. Hitori didn’t either. He turned on his heel and stuck the gun back into his jacket, closing the door again behind himself. Doctor Iwamine had always kept the door shut.

He walked home with the world in crystal clarity. No sleepiness pushing on his eyelids, no shadows pulling at his peripheral vision, there was nothing left. There was nothing remaining of this past, not anymore. He stepped into the building, to the elevator. To room 701. That same room which had those clothes in the closet. Those magazines, on the coffee table. All from years ago. He had only made changes to the apartment that were absolutely necessary. He was a guest in this home, even now.

No, especially now, when he would no longer refer to himself as Kazuaki Nanaki. Now, when he was once more Hitori Uzune. He walked over, and he lay down on the couch. He could see from the moment he walked in, a hundred different ways to die. His hand went to the gun in his jacket, but then he let it drop over the edge of the sofa. Not that. No, if he was to die like that, he would truly be the scum of the earth.

He had made these mistakes in order to get revenge, so who was he to deny somebody else the revenge they so desperately wanted?

Despite the absence of his usual exhaustion, Hitori still fell asleep with ease. And, with his mind made up, it was no difficult task to find himself exactly where he wanted to be. There he was. Holiday Star.

The King’s Throneroom.

“Oh! The King says, how very silly!” There he was. The King was smiling gleefully; maybe without the eclipse, he couldn’t tell who Hitori was, “Why, you look just like The King! So, tell me, which one are you? The King will be sure to reward you for amusing him! So are you Early Alice? Everbearing Alexandra? Oh, The King always loved strawberries, and now strawberries will be The King’s friends! It is wonderful! So which one are you?”

“Ah, Your Highness…” Hitori mumbled softly, getting down onto his knees and staring at the ground. It was a nice room. Nicer than anywhere The King ever lived in life, “I’m sorry to say, the truth,” He looked up and locked eyes with him, “Is that… I’m really not a strawberry,” He paused a moment, then held his arms out, wrists up, in front of him. Surrender? More than that. He was putting himself entirely at The King’s mercy, “I’m Hitori.”

_What._


	2. Chapter 2

The King’s wrath unleashed itself in an instant. Not even Hitori was expecting what had happened. He had predicted a moment to make the connection, then perhaps a few words of spite before the true punishment began. But an immediate lashing out of every weapon in The King’s mystic arsenal? That, Hitori could not have prepared for.

In a sudden blast of light and noise, tendril-like heads erupted from The King. Unlike The King himself, the heads were far from human. In fact, they seemed unlike any creature at all. They ensnared his outreached arms and yanked him off the ground, dangling him helplessly in the air. Hitori gasped as his arms were pulled all too harshly, but barely had time to react before his chest had been pierced by more bullets–or, they seemed like bullets–than he could count. Hotori’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped, attempting to process exactly what had happened. Unfortunately for him, he was too busy bleeding profusely from the torso.

“Hitori… Hitori. The King understands. You are Hitori,” His words were soft, quiet, and calm, as though he hadn’t just given Hitori a very, very Bad Time. Somehow… Hitori was not dead. In fact, his wounds were already healing. The power of dreams, he supposed. He coughed up a glob of blood and mucous, gritting his teeth as the initial numbness of shock wore off and gave in to agony, “The King… hates Hitori.”

Groaning, Hitori glanced up at The King, though his hair had fallen into his eyes, somewhat obscuring his view, “Ngh… I know. Rightfully so.”

The King smiled sweetly, but his eyes were full of malice and betrayal. In fact, even now, it felt as though he were going to cry. But he did not. For potentially the first time in his existence, The King did not cry. Still sitting on his throne, he clung to his royal staff like it was a large stuffed animal, perhaps because the metal pole was the closest thing he had to a real friend. For a moment, all he did was watch Hitori’s bleeding wounds close up, and observe as the pain subsided.

“You… are uglier than The King remembers,” The King said softly, “Much, much, uglier. You look… like a fool who deserved to die. A fool who never should have trusted you.”

Hitori’s heart sank. It felt as though the pain from the bullets was nothing compared to the sting of those words, “Don’t talk about yourself… that way… Kazuaki.”

The King responded with a loud scoff and he raised his staff. Upon doing so, the tendrils that ensnared Hitori’s arms tightened, yanking his limbs out farther than they should go and cutting off the circulation in his wrists. Hitori winced and groaned. The King pointed his staff at Hitori.

“The King is _The King_ ,” He told him bitterly, expression hardening. Perhaps he was seeing things, but Hitori swore The King’s head was turning red. And were his eyes growing darker by the moment? The King unleashed a bolt of lightning from his staff and simply stared blankly as Hitori writhed in pain, “Hitori killed _Kazuaki._ ” His voice seemed to echo around the room, even over Hitori’s screams.

Or perhaps they just echoed in Hitori’s ears.

Hitori killed Kazuaki. Hitori. Killed. Kazuaki.

Hitori’s body shook even when the electric current subsided, and he gasped for breath. Everything hurt. It felt as though his blood itself had been boiled with the shock. He took a deep, wavering breath and squeezed his eyes shut, “Ha. Yeah. You’re… right. I killed you. And I’m sorry.”

The King frowned and adjusted his cloaks, pointing his staff again at Hitori. Knowing now the power it posessed, Hitori flinched. At this, The King laughed as though he was having the time of his life. Or rather, the time of his afterlife. He smiled weakly, eyes now seeming completely void of any life or color. 

Calmly, even as more and more demonic tendrils grew around him from no tangible source, The King jumped off his throne and stepped towards Hitori. He had Hitori’s arms freed and let him fall unceremoniously and painfully to the floor.

“Ahaha…. ‘Sorry…’ Hitori is sorry, he says. That’s funny. The King has not forgiven Hitori. The King will never forgive Hitori.”

Now on his knees again, Hitori opened his mouth to speak, but the King would not have that. Before he could utter a sound, The King stuffed the hilt of his staff into Hitori’s mouth. Taken aback by the action, Hitori’s eyes widened and he made a muffled noise of confusion.

“The King does not want to hear what Hitori has to say,” The King murmured. Hitori wasn’t sure if it was just the darkness in his eyes, or if The King almost seemed reluctant to do this, “All Hitori knows are lies. The King has no reason to listen to his lies.”

Hitori paused, but then nodded as well as he could. The King was right, after all. Perhaps it was best that he didn’t say anything.

He would just make excuses, after all.

“The King appreciates Hitori’s obedience…” The King told him with a bitter smile, pulling his staff away. Hitori wiped his mouth and coughed, but stayed silent. His eyes remained cast to the ground out of sheer disgust with himself. He couldn’t stand to look into those lifeless eyes. Not when he had taken the life out of them. But The King had other plans, crouching down and tilting Hitori’s head so that he was forced to look at him. Forced to look at his vacant, black eyes and crooked, broken grin, “The King told Hitori he only hurts people and that he needed to be put away… Hitori did not listen. Hitori hurt another person. The person was bad, but The King understands. Hitori… only hurts bad people.”

_You don’t understand,_ Hitori wanted to say, closing his eyes so as not to look at The King anymore, _It’s not like that at all. I’m the bad person. You never did anything wrong._ He knew though, that if he were to speak, he would only incur the wrath of The King. 

He was dreaming. How could this feel so real?

The King did not seem to like how he refused to make eye contact with him. Pressing his lips into a stern frown, The King took his right hand and plunged his index and middle fingers into Hitori’s eyes. Hitori gasped and groaned, jerking back and pushing The King’s hand away.

“Aagh, fuck!” Hitori cried, despite having sworn not to speak. He covered his now-bleeding eyes and gritted his teeth. Pressure. A pounding pressure in his head. His mind whirled as he muttered the word, “ _Again?_ ”

“The King did not want to have to do that, but Hitori was being rude and mean. Does Hitori want to make The King cry? Even though he has cried a billion tears over Hitori already?” Unable to see it coming, Hitori grunted as The King kicked him in the gut, “That was for talking… but The King guesses it doesn’t matter. Hitori has never been one to keep his word.”

Hitori groaned, rolling over onto his side and clutching his stomach with one hand and his head with the other, “Do what you want… I don’t have anything else to say, anyway… I told you. I’m at your mercy.”

The King prodded Hitori with his staff, and if Hitori were able to see, he may have noticed the tendrils recede slightly and his original eye color return, “I… I have hated you for a long time.” It was at his words that Hitori knew that something was wrong. Not only had he dropped his kingly facade, but his voice was wavering, almost as if he truly _would_ cry, “I loved you once, you know? You told me you loved me too.” But just as quickly as it had fallen, his persona rose back to the surface, “The King… does not love Hitori anymore. The King… hates Hitori.”

_How much… do you have to rub it in?_

It was then that the floodgates were opened and tears streamed from The King’s eyes. At this, a wave of thunder clouds seemed to materialize above them. The elegant, mystical room was suddenly filled with a harsh, pounding downpour, and lightning that seemed to only have one target. Hitori remembered when _he_ had been the cause of rain on Holiday Star. Blind and in the rain again, he felt a strange comfort in his sense of deja vu. Perhaps… this was the fate he deserved.

Hitori laughed weakly, as though nothing was wrong. The King continued to sob. Soon enough, his laughter subsided, and Hitori cried out with every lightning strike that hit him. Every blow The King personally cast upon him. Every bullet. Every raindrop. All the pain.

This fate was his. He had accepted it a long time ago.

As his thoughts began to grow fuzzy and his mind began to stray, he found himself thinking despite the haze, _Torture? Ahaha… I can cope with torture…_

And cope with it he did, until dawn arose on Holiday Star.

“The King… shall say goodbye to Hitori now. He is not powerful enough to keep you here, without the moon…” He said, stepping away and staring down at the bruised, battered form of the man he once loved, “But The King thinks he will see Hitori again. And when he does, Hitori will pay.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Hitori woke up, he didn’t feel anything.

It wasn’t that he simply didn’t feel any of the pain he’d endured in his dreams, but rather, he didn’t feel a single thing. After spending a night on the couch rather than somewhere more comfortable, he would expect to at least have physical aches, even if his incorporeal tortures did intend to remain just that, locked into the world of not-so-dreamy dreams. He felt nothing at all. He brought his hands up to touch his face, feeling around his eyes before he opened them. Making sure his eyeballs really were there, or so he intended, but he couldn’t even feel the touch or the pressure on his face or in his fingers.

He opened his eyes. It was the room, just the same as it had been when he went to sleep. Same old bag of potato chips growing cultures in a puddle of congealed soda, both remnants of a night near that fateful one, when he and Kazuaki had sat down together to watch a movie. Close enough to December eighth, that it hadn’t even been picked up. He left it there, just as he tried to leave everything he could. A frozen picture stuck in time, stuck in that day five years ago now.

Within the next ten minutes, Hitori regained feeling. None of the pain from Holiday Star came to rest in his chest, his eyes, or any other part of his body. He felt just as healthy as ever, physically, but he didn’t mentally feel up to anything. Seeing… seeing Kazuaki again, that was the worst part about last night. The bullets in his chest, having his eyes gouged out… even the lightning, which many people described as the worst possible pain a person could endure, all of those quailed in comparison to the sight of that face. His own face, now… looking back at him. The physical embodiment and biggest reminder of his sins.

Last time he’d been on Holiday Star, he couldn’t see The King. Didn’t see him at all. Heard his voice, knew his intentions, gave in to being held captive to his death. To an eternal sleep… and he was sure, even now, that despite The King’s inability to keep him there, he could be killed on Holiday Star. Enough shock to his body, regardless of its psychological and physical value, could kill him. It was the theory of mortal placebo. A felon who had been sentenced to death was used in an experiment in which he was told that he would be slowly drained of his blood, had his skin scraped slightly, then heard the sound of dripping water…

The criminal never lost a single bit of blood, but when the brain is so convinced of a pain being done against the body, it will often force the body into reacting as if that was the truth. It was only by The King’s will that Hitori’s wounds healed as quickly as they did, that they didn’t kill him immediately. If Hitori was truly killed on Holiday Star, he was certain that the incident would stop his heart in reality as well… he almost wished, then, that would happen. Almost, except… if The King would rather hurt him than kill him, he would let him.

After all, he was guilty of high treason against the crown.

He desired to die, of course, but he wouldn’t. Not until The King killed him, because Kazuaki deserved that much at least. After all that Hitori had done to him, after he’d betrayed him so completely…

They’d always talked about it. That day when Hitori finally said, let’s do it. Let’s die together… it wasn’t a sudden thing. If it had been, maybe Kazuaki would have been more suspicious of his sudden persistence on double suicide. It had been, for quite a large portion of their relationship, a topic which came up at least once a month if not more. They’d hold hands and speak in hushed tones and make it out to be such a romantic idea, dying and leaving this world, but it would always end with them shaking their heads slowly. Whispering excuses for why they had to stick around, and Hitori’s were always so real and genuine, and Kazuaki’s were always so forced except for the one which he never said, that he’d only do it if Hitori did too. 

There wasn’t much left for Kazuaki to do, after all. Not that he could think of for himself, anyway. By the time Hitori came into his life, he’d already given up on the idea that he’d ever get it together. Even with the tutoring and motivation instilled in him by finally having a single friend, that was hanging by a string that very often frayed. Finishing his degree was by no means a good excuse to continue on… but Hitori, Hitori always said he needed to stay. To take care of Nageki. To find somebody who could help Nageki, save his sickly younger brother…

It was always such a noble cause. For somebody who hated this world as much as Hitori clearly did, it was a selfless act to stay there for somebody else’s sake. Kazuaki never really knew what made Hitori the way he was; what made him so incredibly protective of Nageki, what made him such a sad person. He only assumed it was stress, and depression, he never knew nor ever could have known just how much Hitori had lost. Even when he died, he didn’t know exactly what had happened.

Only that Hitori had gone looking for Nageki, and had come back with burns on his body, saying it was about time that the two of them died. Kazuaki only figured that something must have happened to Nageki to push Hitori to this state, that if he didn’t feel the need to protect Nageki anymore, that would explain why he was ready to die… but he wasn’t. Hitori had only said those things. Even now, even with the things he cared about most in the world lost to him, he still had things left to do. He still needed to get revenge.

Now he had, though. Now he could catch up with those five years, that lost time, since he’d lied back then. Since he said that he was ready to die, only so he could fulfill that wish which the shadows whispered to him. Revenge on Isa Souma. For so long, when he poured the bleach into his hair or looked in the mirror or slipped on those clothes, those clothes which were so nice and warm and comfortable, which he’d worn plenty of times under kinder circumstances… he told himself lies. He told himself that this was necessary. That he’d needed to forsake Kazuaki.

After all, Hitori Uzune was considered dead. Besides, some broke orphan couldn’t possibly get a job at St. Pigeonation’s, which he would absolutely need to do in order to get close to Isa Souma. Close enough to kill him. Kazuaki Nanaki, though. An average person who was enrolled in college already, who could turn out to be a bright and intelligent youth, and who was entirely unknown to Isa Souma as well… It was the only way, he told himself. The only way to do what he needed to do… but as they say, hindsight is 20/20 and he was sure now that he could have found some other way to accomplish his goal.

Success felt good, but it also signaled the end of lying. If he had been killed by The King, as he’d expected he would be, he would have been able to stop lying about his identity because he would be gone from this world. He stopped lying to himself about feeling okay over the death of somebody who really had been dear to him.

He wasn’t going into the school today. There was still prep going on for the new school year, of course, but he could skip a day of it. He was mostly ready anyhow, though he hadn’t expected to be teaching in the following year. There had always been the chance his resolve would waver, or he wouldn’t get the opportunity to find Souma alone without an aid or his test-tube-children nearby, or any number of things which could leave him in the same position as ever when the time came.

He stood up from the couch finally, though he was still reeling from the dream and from lying there with his thoughts for so long. Every second that he contemplated the nature of his crimes left a bigger and darker pit growing in his stomach, to the point where he wouldn’t only skip breakfast, but didn’t even believe that he could handle swallowing a single sip of tea at the moment. Perhaps later the feeling would subside, though he doubted it. Regardless, he would eat something today. Starving himself would be a painful and worthy way for him to go, but for the sake of Kazuaki he needed to preserve his physical body. The King was the only thing in this entire universe that Hitori would allow to kill him, now.

Even in this rotten emotional state, Hitori didn’t want to feel any more disgusting than his sins left him, so as soon as he felt able to he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He set it to a comfortable temperature, then froze where he stood, thinking back to last night. On Holiday Star, he’d been absolutely covered in blood… shouldn’t he clean that off? Give The King a clean slate to mess up when he saw him again tonight, and he certainly would see him again tonight. He turned the temperature up, hesitated, then wrenched the handle to break through the built-in scald-guard.

When he stepped into the shower he could feel the heat on his skin, could immediately tell that it was much hotter than it should have been, and it stung. He looked down at his hands and noted that they were turning slightly red, the only part of his body which had remained completely intact in the facility fire. His face had even gotten slightly burned, but when he was changing his face entirely a few burn scars were easy enough for Alphonse to cover up…

Although, with such a compatible wardrobe to hide himself inside, he didn’t get any sort of cosmetic surgery for any of the other scars. He was the only one who’d ever be seeing anything but his face and hands, after all, and they served as a reminder of what he was fighting for, back when he was fighting. Now that he’d surrendered himself, they were a reminder of something else. Breath catching in his throat, he sunk to his knees, the water feeling slightly less painful as he moved further from it, but not by much. It felt particularly awful on the scar tissue, which he stared at on his thighs and arms now.

He should have died that day.

It was some sort of twisted fate that he didn’t, really. It would have been better for him, better for so many people, and definitely better for Kazuaki if he had just perished alongside Nageki as all the files claimed he did. The very fact that he was able to find such a hidden facility in his franctic search for Nageki was a miracle, one which probably intended to lead him to his death… the number of times he had avoided death out of nothing but chance was ridiculous to him. Why the Hell would the world ever want to keep him alive?

All he ever did was hurt people.

Hitori woke up four hours later, freezing cold. He’d fallen asleep in the shower and all of the hot water ran out, though it did it slowly enough that the cold itself didn’t wake him up right away. When he did wake up, he stood up and turned off the water. Well, it was good to know that The King really couldn’t do anything to him during the day, even when he fell asleep at inconvenient times. That would certainly make it easier to manage his life.

In any case, he made sure to put on extra layers once he’d dried off, definitely wanting to avoid hypothermia. It was funny, but now that he’d resigned himself to nights filled with painful torture he was much more cautious with his life. Again, he couldn’t let himself be killed by anything here and take the satisfaction away from Kazuaki. He knew now, how revenge felt. It was a wonderful thing, actually. He had no negative emotions whatsoever, towards the murder of Isa Souma. That was one event that he didn’t regret, even now he felt the lingering ecstasy of having achieved the goal he’d been working for this whole time.

All else was misery and regret. Accomplishing his goal of revenge, it was certainly a wonderful thing. It was how he got to that point that left him feeling this way. He spent the rest of the day doing practically nothing; he just didn’t feel up to it, biding his time until that evening. Towards the end of the afternoon he forced himself to eat something, just some microwave noodles, but that was better than nothing. 

Just as soon as the sun went down, he lay on the couch again, just like the night before, but earlier. That would give The King more time to beat the living fuck out of him, wouldn’t it? Unpleasant as that was, he still knew that he deserved it, so he was going to go willingly to his personalized Hell.

When he arrived, he wasn’t in The King’s throneroom this time. Perhaps it was a result of it being the second night, and his resolve to get there being somewhat less strong. As much as he was ready to go through whatever The King needed to do to him to make up for the awful things that he’d done, anyone’s subconscious would be afraid and unwilling after what had already happened the previous night.

Hitori’s actual location was definitely on Holiday Star, though. He could tell by how… nice it looked. There was nothing mortal that could ever be as beautiful as the things that Kazuaki came up with in his afterlife… it made sense. He’d always written lovely poetry, so when he had an entire world to shape to his most creative ideas, of course it would be absolutely splendid.

This location, however… it was more beautiful, yes, but very familiar, and Hitori immediately realized why he was here instead. It was The King’s doing, wasn’t it? Hitori wondered, even the first time on Holiday Star, why there were so many strawberries on the star… yet, now, in a field of them with other stars twinkling brightly above, brighter than any stars ever could have on Earth, he understood finally.

So much about this star… was a bitter reminder of the good times in Kazuaki’s life. Particularly this location, which Hitori was sure he was now being shown out of spite. He remembered that day… Nageki had wanted strawberry shortcake, and seeing as a local farm was having a ‘pick your own strawberries’ event, Hitori had decided it was the perfect opportunity to do something fun with Kazuaki. They’d picked strawberries, and all three of them ate out on the porch of Heartful House later that night. Just a little bit outside wouldn’t harm Nageki, after all, and as they ate they looked up at the stars, and Kazuaki had cried because the shortcake was good.

It was… it was very nice, but it was now being used against him, reminding him of his deception. He really had made Kazuaki believe he cared about him, only to turn around and do something so horrible… The King wanted to make sure that Hitori knew that.

Ah, yes.

The King.


End file.
